Domestic Looks Good on You
by jenna.masonbrase
Summary: A story about why Delphine is so loyal to Leekie and Dyad. Also about Cophine. So much Cophine, man. AND clones. Lots of clones. New clones, old clones, Tatiana clones, other clones? Yes. Yes, other clones, too. Everyone's invited.
1. Prologue: Part 1

She was crying.

She was crying, earlier, in Cosima's bed, and she was crying there, leaning into the cushions of her couch, the lights dim around her. Tears tore across her cheeks, and she hadn't noticed. How long had she been crying? She pulled the sleeve of her sweater up to dry her eyes, and found Cosima there; the subtle scent of weed from her apartment, the conditioner in her hair, the slight touch of perfume on her skin. Everything she was wearing carried Cosima between the fibers of the fabrics. She cried harder. Then she went back to work.

Her laptop open, bottle next to her, she typed. Things were getting urgent. They wanted her to run more tests, which was getting harder to do without access to Dyad's labs. She couldn't use the university's lab space without the paranoia that Cosima might walk in on her, and she couldn't fly back to Canada to do it, not when she was supposed to be monitoring. And they wanted more samples. Which she could give. Delphine had Cosima etched into her skin, her fingerprints tracing the contours of her frame, even still, hours after. She hadn't showered yet. She could collect samples and give them to Leekie and-

Leekie. Aldous Leekie. Delphine's eyes closed like dams on tsunami tides. Dams that couldn't hold back nearly enough of the overflow.

_Cosima smiled. Delphine was standing just a couple steps from the door, and they were both trying to find their footing. Cosima was moving around the room with a nervous electricity, and Delphine understood it perfectly. She felt it when she nodded, smiling at Cosima shakily. She'd said something about Dyad._

_And Cosima talked with her hands as she stumbled for words, taking a couple steps towards some papers. A couple more steps, and she set them down on her desk, ten feet or so in front of her bed. Delphine followed her. She wasn't sure what else to do._

_Her objective had been clear from the start. Get Cosima to open up. Get the names, by whatever means possible. She had to. Leekie had said Cosima was in danger. Leekie said-_

_"You know it's really really good to finally meet someone who gets it." Delphine told her without really thinking about it. The words stood in the air. Somewhere, Delphine knew what she was trying to do. She had a plan. She knew what to say next, how to move, where to put her hands._

_But in the forefront of her mind stood silence. Cosima's green eyes glowed like lanterns. The fit of her top set Delphine's imagination on fire. Cosima glanced at Delphine quickly, smiling and agreeing._

_"Who gets...who gets me." She'd said. Cosima said something. "Yeah. Ditto. Obvs."_

_Delphine closed her eyes, facing forward, tasting a terrible hybrid of truth and dishonesty in her words._

_"I can't stop thinking about that kiss."  
_

Delphine closed her laptop. She put it aside and stood up, walking into her bathroom and twisting the cold water on. She purposefully avoided looking in the mirror; she looked like shit. She knew that. The cold felt good against her skin, and she took a minute to pull herself together with its aid. There had always been curiosity. _What does it feel like to love a woman?_

She closed her eyes, couldn't wash off the memory of the girl on her lips._ It's absolutely incredible._

_"That's…oddly romantic" Cosima said, her eyes so curious, searching Delphine's for safety. Because they both knew what this was; at least, to some extent. Cosima was too intelligent not to figure it out. Delphine's research and study was her; she was the experiment. But Delphine couldn't imagine Cosima had any idea what the stakes were for her in this. For both of them. She wasn't sleeping with Aldous because he was a scientist. This wasn't for a job. This was much more than that._

_"And totally encouraging." Cosima said suddenly. Delphine's hands started moving on their own, pressing her palm lightly against Cosima's face, taking in the warmth, the softness of her skin. She'd slept with people for work before. Not a lot of people, and never the person she was assigned to monitor, but other people, none the less. She had a routine for it. Take her shirt off. Heighten his lust. No emotions. Just sex appeal. This, with Cosima; this wasn't routine._

_Her fingertips ran across Cosima's lips as her eyes started stuttering._

Delphine took her sweater off and tossed it over the chair in her bedroom, too drained to put it away. She slipped out of her skirt and crawled into bed, the comforter cold to the touch, but warming fast. Cosima had asked her if she'd wanted to stay. Delphine said no. She had a class in the morning, she'd said. It _was_ morning. Her wall clock told her it was just past four.

Cosima would figure it out. She'd figure everything out. She'd never trust Delphine if she learned who's bed she'd been sent from.

But this was to protect her. To protect both of them.


	2. Prologue: Part 2

I didn't think it'd happen like this.

She left Minneapolis, and I followed her. I was told do so; Leekie called me to meet him, because everything was a mess and he'd said something about it being time to fill me in. On everything. Finally. He said they'd buy me a ticket, but when he called I was already on the plane.

I went to his loft, Sarah's foster brother's, whom I'd been filled in about the night prior, and Cosima looked _so_ tired. She looked at me with a hurt and wounded glance, and I felt myself shattering as her anger tore through me. She asked me why I was there, and I knew the answer. "Because I-"

But I knew I shouldn't say it. Not yet. "Because Leekie is a liar."

Felix left me alone with her, for hours. She let go a little control, giving me a chance to recover her trust, at least, part of it. And then it was a maze of genetic coding, a relay of questions and ideas, struggling and searching to find her answers. When she started falling apart, I hadn't put it together yet.

But when she told me she was sick, I knew. I flashed back to Jennifer, to her skin so faded and cold, and the fear I'd seen in her eyes echoed in Cosima's, I tried my best not to fall apart. Couldn't stop myself from pulling her into me, hiding my fears in the crook of her neck. I held her, but she held me. And she trusted me, more than I'd deserved.

We didn't speak much the rest of the night; just sat there, calming nerves and searching ourselves for what to do. Eventually I needed to go, for both of us. She needed to figure out her next move, as did I, as did Dyad. Cosima's always thinking, always curious and intuitive. She wanted be there with me, but her mind was trapped in her genetic code. I understood easily. My mind was trapped part in the feel of her skin, part in my purpose in all of this. Leekie wanted to speak with me. I had to go meet him.

But I'd be back. Cosima wanted blood drawn, and I could get the vials, I just had to go into Dyad for a few hours, talk to Aldous, and then I'd be back to her. Three steps. Back before sunrise.

As I was about to stand, about to leave, she tugged subtly at my wrist, holding me to the couch for a second as she tried to tell me something. Her eyes carried a maze of thoughts and emotions, but she couldn't find the words, so I leaned forward and kissed both her cheeks, almost reflexively. It felt so natural, so easy. But at the same time, it was completely exhilarating, like I hadn't been practicing the gesture my entire life.

She didn't follow me to the door. I unhooked the latch, slid it open, and left to go talk to Aldous.


	3. Chapter 1

The heavy doors to Dyad stay locked until the screen reads your badge and confirms your eye color. The windows are impossible to see through looking in, but looking out, the city's gorgeous; the sun rising along it's edge, the slow commute of traffic along the highway. Cosima's working today; she's been in better health lately, so her time is split between here, the loft and my apartment. When she's here, if it's a good day, she's in the lab. If it's a bad day, she's in a hospital bed. A terrible day, and she's in isolation.

Today is good though. I reach the elevator and smile softly at what's to come. We're just falling back into this routine of working together and being okay. Her treatment's been helping, but not performing miracles yet. She's far from cured. We're working day and night to get there.

The elevator carries me and a couple other people I've never seen before up a couple floors, dropping them off as we go. Dyad isn't a hole-in-the-wall science lab anymore; it's become almost an industry. So many people, scientists and lawyers and god knows who else, work here now that neolution is taking off. The elevator stops. My floor. She's waiting for me.

But she doesn't let on. She just continues what she's doing, working alongside a couple doctors caring for sample trays. Cosima's glasses are on the table next to the microscope, and when she hears the click of my heels her eyes just barely look up to find me. I don't know if she can fully make me out, but when she looks back into the microscope she wears a small, coy smile, and I almost can't contain myself.

I say hi to everyone, they say hello back. My coworkers ask me about something related to the genetic mutation I'm currently studying, and Cosima asks me a question she already knows the answer to. She's trying to play it off like we didn't talk about it a couple nights ago, wrapped in my blue comforter, lying in my bed.

We're casual, inconspicuous, unnoticeable. Or we are, until they leave.

It's when they go for lunch that she comes over and wraps her arms around me from behind, kissing my shoulder lightly, her chest pressing into my body, separated only by lab coats and sweaters.

"I missed you." she says.

God.

I turn around and almost fall into her, smiling as my lips find safety in hers. She looks so good in a lab coat, like just, _too_ good. So good I want to take it off.

But this is where we work, and we've been walked in on before, so I try to slow down, taking my time as my hands travel across her.

"I missed you, cheri."

She smiles and hums, kissing me lightly before pulling back a bit so she can see me.

"What are you doing tonight?" I ask her, already making plans.

"You."

I laugh, and she leans into me a little more. "Am I wrong?"

I love the way she can be sexy and lovely at the same time. It's unique to her; she's the only person I've ever experienced the combination with simultaneously. The two elements of her fuse together, constructing a symphony.

"You might not be." I say to her teasingly. "But not without dinner. I want to cook for you."

"Ugh, fine." she says, her voice coated in faux exasperation. "Are you gonna be cooking shirtless again?"

"That was _one_ time."

"And what a time it was."

She's glowing, smiling so fully, in the way she does when she's truly happy, and I'm just so, so ecstatic that she's not sick anymore.

There's a couch in the lab because we spend a lot of time on our feet during the day, and it feels like heaven to sit down for a moment. Cosima sits beside me, playing with my hands, explaining the strain of a virus that she's looking into to see if exposure to that could produce any of the same symptoms that she's been experiencing.

This is where I can see she feels most at home, and I do too. Talking science, no one else around, a little intimacy, a lot of curiosity and wonder; I was thrown into this fate, but I'm so glad I was. I'd never pursued science, not until I was a sophomore in college, when all the tables finally turned. I suppose I'd always had an interest though. It just never occurred to me to dedicate my life to it.

Cosima still doesn't know how I became involved with Dyad. I'll tell her; soon. But not today. Not tomorrow. Someday. Someday soon.

At the end of the work day we don't leave together. She leaves a little earlier than I do, which is fine because she wants to go to the loft and change before she comes over, and I don't argue. I need the extra time to finish working. I want to work, I want to focus on it.

But I can't. The clock's ticking slowly, the oncoming evening running through my thoughts like foreplay, and I give up trying after thirty minutes. I decide to go; I have to stop at the store to buy pasta anyway. And French bread. Cosima loves when I bring home bakery fresh French bread. When she tastes it she closes her eyes and hums, and it's like we're in Paris, spending the rest of our lives together.

The store is a short drive from the lab. It's a cute little market, fresh vegetables and pastries greeting you as you come in. Walking down one of the aisles, I realize I'm smiling, and I quickly look around to see if anyone's caught me. I must look like an idiot. Smiling like a mad man, looking at penne boxes.

I'm just, well. I'm caught off guard again by how much I love her. How much I love _this_. Things feel so normal and comfortable, because she trusts me again and she's healthy. I take my items to the cashier, check out, and hurry home to her.

She's there when I arrive, standing by the stove, as I expected. She has a key. I've had an apartment here since I started working for Dyad, years ago, but when I was assigned to monitor Cosima I moved to St. Paul. Still, I never gave up this place.

Cosima's spent so much time over the last few months sleeping in a hospital bed that she hasn't got her own place yet. She stays with Felix when she doesn't stay with me, but basically, she lives here. At least, I hope she does. We've never formally talked about it, but I want to make this home for her. Or we can go some place else. Anywhere can be home. Her hands are home. Her lips are, her voice is.

She's got the water already boiling, because she knows what I like to make for her. I smile, walking over to her and kissing her gently before taking a step towards the kitchen table to set the grocery bags down.

"Bonsoir, ma cheri."

"Hi." She pulls me back to her, kissing me again like it's a promise."Did you bring me bread?"

She smiles with her lips and her eyes when I hold it up. "Bless your soul."

I laugh, and get started. I get the basics going; wash the vegetables, put the penne in; then I move across the room to change. It's a studio, my bed being ten steps from my kitchen, and as I move towards it, pulling my white shirt over my head, I can feel her eyes on me. I turn around and catch her, and she's not even ashamed anymore. Six months ago she might've darted her eyes once I caught her looking; now she just gives me a look that sends a shiver down my spine.

I walk towards my chest of draws and open the top one, pulling it out and folding the white shirt, placing it on top.

"Where that baby blue one, you know," she says. "The one we got last weekend. Yeah, wear that."

"Okay."

"Or wear nothing. You're call."

I'm tempted, just to make her smile, but I decide to save it for later. If I walk back to her topless we'll probably end up skipping dinner; it's happened before. So I slip the blue tee on and take off my heels, leaving them by the side of my bed. I walk back towards the stove and get to work as she settles into the couch with her laptop. A couple times, like she always does, she asks if I need any help. I tell her she shouldn't get anywhere near this, and she laughs in agreement. Cosima is...not the best at cooking. Honestly, though, I truly enjoy cooking for her. It makes me feel like a wife. Not in a nineteen fifties kind of way, but in a loving way. In the way that makes me feel incredible.

When everything's finished she puts down her laptop and dances her way over to me. Music's playing; it's always playing when I cook. The tracks alternate between her taste and mine, currently on something she found while digging through SoundCloud. It's a little too electronic for my taste, but then again, the way she moves to it is just, god.

"You're such a good dancer, cheri."

"Oh god no, I don't know what I'm doing."

"Whatever you're doing," I set the stirring spoon on the counter and turn to her. "Don't stop doing it."

"Hmmm, okay." she says, leaning into me. "Your wish is my command."

When she's finished eating I grab her plate and mine, and take them to the sink to wash them. So maybe I do like being a fifties housewife, just a little.

It's when I'm rinsing them that her moves change intentions, and a drive enters her stare. She wants me, maybe as much as I want her. I don't finish washing one plate before her hands are on me.

"Come to bed with me." she says, sweetly seductive. Her hands are so coaxing, so practiced.

"Should I take care of this first?" I ask, motioning to the dishes.

"I don't know." she says. "Do you _want_ to?"

It isn't a question.

My lips curve into a smirk as she pulls me across the room, pushing me playfully onto my bed, the colors matching my shirt so perfectly that when I take it off you can barely see it there, camouflaged into the comforter.

Standing in front of me, she takes a step back just to stare. Her eyes trace the outline of my chest, and I reach out for her, just barely grabbing her sweater and using it to pull her closer. She steps forward, smiling. My hands tug at her sweater impatiently, and she laughs, but complies. When it's off I throw it on the floor, grab her waist, and pull her into me.

Cosima is such a sensual person, even in the way she walks and speaks, but it's not overpowering. Sexuality isn't the most incredible thing about her. Her intelligence, and compassion, and spirit; they're infectious. Her fingers play with the button of my skirt, but it doesn't feel lustful. It feels caring. Safe to let go.

Mine is off, and then her's is gone, and we're climbing into bed, creating foreplay with our eyes. When we find the fit that works, she kisses my lips softly, biting on the lower one before pulling back an inch.

"Thank you for tonight." she says softly, like we don't do this all the time.

"Of course." I tell her. "Anytime."

"I mean it though." she says, and this time I pull back a little to see her better. Her sincerity is showing, and it's stunning. She looks like a beautiful mix of broken and healing.

"I just, I'm, I guess I'm...I'm glad to be okay."

I lean in and kiss her forehead.

"But I'm still, just…scared."

"Je t'aime, Cosima. Je vais vous protéger."

She nods, and all I can do is hope it's a promise I'll keep. She puts her hands on my cheeks to pull me back to her lips, the taste of red wine still drawn across them. Her hands fall on my hips, then my lower back. Then my chest.

I slide my thigh between her legs and she responds by pulling me in harder, her grip on me tightening as she runs her tongue lightly across my lips, as if she has to ask. It isn't a question.


	4. Chapter 2

_Authors Note: Hi everyone. Firstly, thank you so sooooo so so much for reading this. The number of followers I have now is incredible. So; just a few clarifications. _

_1) The first prologue was basically my experimenting with what person I wanted to write this story in. Obviously I've gone with first person, but I liked what I'd made in third so I kept it as a prologue. _

_2) After the second prologue, we jump ahead about six months, give or take. _

_3) I speak no french. None. So I want to apologize in advance for my terrible attempt at writing it. _

_And 4) This is my first multi chapter fanfic, and my second ever fanfic. So thank you so much for reading it and liking it. Things are about to get crazy. It's gonna be good (hopefully)_

_(Things are gonna be confusing in this chapter but that's just part of my evil plan, so bear with me people)_

_..._

The alarm is blaring, echoing through the open apartment like a freight train. Without opening my eyes I try to reach for it, to make the noise stop, but it silences before my hand can get there.

My eyes open to Cosima, her hair a little damp, a towel around her shoulders. She's dressed, and smiling at my exhaustion. "Good morning." she says.

"Bonjour, mon amour."

I sit up, my mind still darting between awake and asleep. She runs her hand through my curls before bending down to kiss the top of my head.

And then she's gone, to the other side of the room, gathering her things and pouring a cup of coffee before bringing it over to me. She pulls the towel off her shoulders and drapes it over the chair next to my dresser.

"You made me coffee."

Cosima smiles as she hands the mug to me, warm but not searing. She's been up for a while. "Of course."

"Are you going into Dyad?"

"Yeah, I like to get there early, just so I can be jmalone for a while." she says casually. But her hands quickly come up in defense. "Not that I don't like you there, no I just, I-"

"I get it." It's adorable when she talks with her hands. I just want to watch her now.

But she has to go. She looks at me, and we don't say anything for a moment. Then, "Damn."

"What?"

"You make me really want to stay." she says. "You look, just…damn."

"Cosima, don't tempt me." She laughs. "If you want me to make you stay you know I'll do it."

The way she smiles starts to wake me up, her hand tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. It's so caring. The thoughtfulness of her movements is everything I didn't know I was looking for.

"But you should go." I tell her. "You might regret it if you don't, and I can't be the one to stand between you and some brilliant discovery."

"That I'm gonna make this morning, right." she says. Her hand stays there, fingertips on my skin. "Can we do this tomorrow?"

"I'll be here." I say, such a sucker for her. "Whenever you want."

She bends down, her dreads falling forward a little as she moves both her hands to my thighs, putting pressure on them, leaning in to kiss me. My hands run to her neck, then her shoulders, but resist going lower because she wants to go to work when she doesn't want to, and I want her to go when I really, really don't want her to.

It's passionate, but it's fast. "I'll see you in a couple hours." she says, an inch away.

"À bientôt"

Her lips are gone, and then she is, out the door and into the morning. Her absence is so loud, so noticeable. I can't believe I ever lived here without her.

The hardwood is cold to the touch, but the air is warm. I walk into the bathroom and start the shower when my phone goes off.

It's across the room, and not a priority, so by the time I get to it it's a missed call and a message. No. It's _seven_ missed calls, the first one from 2 A.M. Merde. They're from Leekie. They're _all_ from Leekie.

My hands quickly dial his number. He picks up after one ring.

"Delphine."

"Yes, is there an emergency?"

I ask because I don't think it's anything dire, just something Leekie considers dire.

"Well," he says, with an air of misleading calm. He loves to hold out on information pertaining to Cosima, so I don't think it's that; he wouldn't have called me about that. This is probably one of Rachel's demands.

"I wouldn't call it an _emergency_, but it's something of great importance to you."

"About Cosima?"

"Actually, Delphine, it's about Elle."

Silence. Heart attack silence. Complete silence.

"And?"

"And-"

"Is she okay?

"She is." he says. At that my pulse stops beating at it's fastest, but it doesn't slow enough.

"So what is it then?"

"Calm down, Delphine." he says condescendingly. "She's fine, everything's fine. In fact, she's doing really well, and we're sure she'll benefit from our advances in treatment options here."

He doesn't continue. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying our advances are, well, superior. To the international institutes." He's referring to Dyad's headquarters in Germany, South Africa, China, Brazil. And then there are the smaller institutes, one in almost every country.

"So…"

"So after a lot of thought," his footsteps echo through the line as he walks down one of Dyad's hallways. "We've made the decision to bring her and her sisters here." he says, so effortlessly, like it doesn't change everything. I barely hear it. It doesn't process. "It's something we've been considering for months-"

"And you didn't think to include me in any of this?"

"This is a partnership." he says, blatantly dishonest, of course. "You have to trust that we'll make the right choices."

Maybe he didn't know. Rachel _would_ leave him out of the decision making process, she'd love that.

Still, the bullet from the gun he just fired hasn't hit yet. Maybe because I don't want it to happen. Or maybe because I desperately, desperately do.

"When is this happening?"

"Soon." he says."

"How soon, do you mean within the year, or the month or-"

"Soon is all I can say for sure. We don't know the specifics yet."

I run my hand through my hair. It's catching up to me now. Elle.

"Are you _sure_, Aldous?" My voice is way too obviously shaken. I try to pull it together. "I mean-"

"It _will_ happen, Delphine." he says. "You know though, of course, you won't be working on her case-"

"Right."

"Cosima is still your subject. That's why you're here, and I hope you won't forget the terms to our agreement."

"I won't, I just…" The contract. I'm not allowed to take samples or study her without Dyad's knowledge. The promises I made can easily be broken, and he knows I will if I feel like I have to. And that terrifies me. He knows too much.

"Can I see her?"

He pauses.

"Yes." he says. "Yes, you can. We'll inform you when she arrives."

"Thank you."

I mean it. He recognizes that.

"Delphine, don't…don't expect her to…"

I don't let him finish, when it crosses my mind what this means. Why she's coming here. "Is she sick?"

"She's, no, but she's at as much risk as the others. Delphine, just…focus on Cosima. Don't get distracted." I nod, more for my sake than his. Entirely for me, actually. As if the movement could convince me to remember how to be okay.

"Oh and, please, don't tell Cosima." His voice resumes it's power position. "That's not a suggestion, that's a request."

It's an order. "I understand."

"Thank you, Delphine."

Leekie hangs up, the silence on the empty line blaring as I take a second longer to try to put this together.

Elle is coming. She's okay.

But she could be sick. Cosima isn't allowed to know,

but this is a secret I won't be able to keep.

I turn around and walk 'til I can sit on the edge of my bed. I throw my phone down next to me, lean forward, put my head in my hands. It's been years. Does she miss me? Do I miss her? Yes. Yes, absolutely. But I've forgotten how to. She was just 13 when she left. Six years ago.

I didn't fall apart; none of us did. I was at school, 24, my path already chosen for me. An ocean apart, she was taken away, for a summer, they'd said. Six years, a doctorate, and what must feel like a lifetime to her later, she's coming. Here. I'm not ready. But I am. I've been waiting for this for so many years now. Everything I've done, every bad decision, it's all been for this.

I look up barely and see the clock telling me it's still ticking, still telling time, counting down the minutes 'til she flies here. And Cosima. She's at the lab by now, settled in, wearing her lab coat that I love so much. Her glasses are probably next to her, maybe she's looking into a microscope, scribbling a diagramn or writing a couple notes into the sheet of paper next to her. What am I going to say to her, how am I going to act normal, how do I focus on anything-

I get up then. I move towards the shower and take a deep breath. I have no idea how this will unravel, but it will. I feel the nervousness seeping into my bones, infecting my veins.

But I know this is what I want. And this is why it's always been worth it. Because she's okay. She'll be okay.


	5. Chapter 3

The day came and went. Cosima spent it working on the other side of the lab, so our interactions were fleeting; a pass behind me, her hand brushing against my back, a trip to her table to grab something, ghosting past her hand as I reached for whatever I needed. We played this back and forth for a while, casually, like I everything was fine and I wasn't anxious as hell. She seemed to believe my act, never letting on.

Towards the end of the day, she comes over to me. Most of our coworkers are going or gone, so she's more obvious than she's been all day; her hand finds a fit into my lower back, and it stays there, pressing lightly.

"Tonight?" she whispers. Our promise. This morning, I'd forgotten, I'd told her we could have our morning in tomorrow. Which implied that we'd have a tonight. My mind's gone, I'm mentally exhausted. But Cosima's staring at me with her lantern eyes, and all I feel is warmth.

"Of course." I tell her. "Do you want me to cook for you?"

"How bout we go somewhere?" she says excitedly. "That Thai place we went to a couple weeks ago was really good, wanna do that again?"

But I can't, not tonight. I look at her, and the way she's looking back, I want to give her _something_. Something more than _I need to crash_. "How about, instead of that, we order in, you know…maybe marathon a show or something?"

Her eyes light up. "That's sounds…fantastic."

And I smile back, the worry leaving me for a second. This will end okay. I don't have to tell her tonight, or now. But soon. The nervous sensation of that thought doesn't leave me entirely when she reaches for my hand, but it's intensity decreases. She holds my hand there for a second, then walks back to her station to finish her week strong.

I leave before she does, down the elevator and out into the Toronto summer. The drive back to my place is short, and when the door closes heavily behind me I drop my bag and fall into the couch with six years of anxiety. I close my eyes for what feels like seconds, and then she's opening the door. It's been thirty minutes.

"Hey, you okay?" She sets her stuff down, walking over to the couch and, without saying anything, I lean forward enough for her to sit there. Once she's settled, I rest my head in her lap, and she plays with my hair in ways that are more soothing than marijuana, better than any drug.

"I'm just…exhausted." It feels like a lie, but it isn't. I hate hiding things from her, so maybe it _will_ be tonight. "It's been a long week, I suppose."

"Yeah, so much cooking, so much sex." she says teasing me, and I laugh lightly, putting my hand over my eyes but looking up at her through the interspaces. She's right though; other than this morning, the week's been far from exhausting. A lot of cuddling, a little smoking. A lot of sex. "Did I wear you out?"

"Maybe a little." I say, laughing, and she's laughing too. "It's been a while since we've been this, um-"

"Vigorous?"

"Yes, this…frequent, I guess." My hand slides into my hair, running through it and touching her hand there. "I'm so glad you're healthy, Cosima."

"I know." she says. "Me too. Believe me, I am too."

"And I don't mind being tired. From this." I gesture at nothing, but she understands what I'm getting at. "It's a good kind of tired."

"Good." she says. "But we don't have to do anything tonight if you don't want to-"

"I want to."

I mean it. Cosima can set my calm on fire, but she can also calm any storm. The way her hand slides down and traces my collar bone, I feel safe. At ease.

"Are you hungry?" I ask her.

"I'll go get us something. You can take a nap 'til I get back, kay?"

"Sounds good. I approve of this plan."

She starts to get up, and I move a little to let her. I close my eyes, but open them again when I feel her presence bend down. She kneels, at eye level with me.

"You sure you're okay?" she asks.

"Sure." I tell her. "Where are you going?"

"You feel like pizza?"

I nod, and she smiles, leaning in and kissing my cheek before getting up and going.

...

When my phone starts ringing I wake up immediately. Could be Leekie. Could be something about Elle. Could be_ something_.

And it is. Leekie's voice is soft as it usually is, but his words are tough, coarse.

"Could you come in tonight?" he asks me, as if it's a question.

But I prompt him anyway. "Why?"

"Rachel want's to speak with you." Rachel. Just her name makes my heart race with anticipation. Or maybe it's fear.

"Why does she-"

"Delphine. We need you here."

I sigh. Of course they do. "I'll be there in thirty minutes."

"Make it fifteen, if you can."

When I hang up, Cosima bustles through the door, a pizza box balancing on her right arm, the aroma of it swimming through the air. I am _so_ tempted to blow them off. I even consider arguing my case, saying I'm supposed to keep Cosima from asking too many questions.

But it might be about Elle. Rachel rarely wants to speak with me, and her power is frightening. She could do so much just by uttering a few small words.

So I turn to Cosima, ready to tell her I have to go, and it's like she already knows.

"What's up?"

"Oh, it's nothing, I just, I've been-"

She stares into me, a mix of confusion and slow anger. Because she probably knows. Or at least, if I asked her to guess, she could probably guess right.

"Dr. Leekie wants to speak with me."

Cosima readjusts her footing slightly, shifting some of her weight to her left leg. "Right now?"

"Yes. It's nothing urgent."

"It must be a little urgent." She moves across the space between us, to the kitchen table to set the pizza down. Then she holds onto the edge of the wood, leaning against her palms.

"Is it about me?"

I don't think it is, but if I tell her that it might prompt her to ask why not. "I don't know."

She bites on her lower lip and shrugs.

"Probably, right? I don't know what else it could be."

"You know I'll tell you if it is."

The promise is shaky. She stares into me, trying to read my mind. "Delphine..."

"I'm just…worried." My hands try to aid my words, trying to speak with me. "About you. And about what they want from me."

Cosima's still apprehensive, at least a little. But her eyes tell me she hears the honesty in my voice, and her hands do a similar dance as she speaks. "It's probably nothing crazy, I mean, they wouldn't just throw something huge at you without any warning. Leekie would've talked to you earlier."

She doesn't say it with a question in her voice, but my nervous head dip answers it anyway. "Unless he did."

"Something is," I take a breath. Slow and shaky. "Something is going on, Cosima."

"About me."

I shake my head, and turn my away from her slightly. She sees it. She's worried now.

"You sure?"

"Yes." I tell her. "Yes, I'm sure. It's not about you this time."

"Is it you?"

I look up to find her a couple steps closer to me, but still keeping her distance. I notice I'm trembling. Merde.

"No, its…" but I can't tell her now. "I have to go."

Her hand is around my wrist in seconds, keeping me next to her. "Delphine. You can't just act terrified and walk out the door without giving me anything."

"I _have_ to, Cosima, I have no choice."

"You _always_ have a choice." she tells me. "I can come with you-"

"You can't."

"But you said it's not about me!"

"That doesn't mean it's not confidential!"

Her hand leaves my wrist, instantly. She takes a step back, and I know I've done it.

"Fine." she says, her voice sure. "Go."

I bend down slightly to pick my coat that's draped over the couch. "Please don't be mad."

"Hmm."

I take a step towards the door, looking back at her just before I open it. "Please don't leave."

I grab the doorknob.

"Please, just…I'll tell you what I know when I come back. Stay. Please."

Cosima doesn't say anything to me as I open the door, glance at her one last time, then walk out and close it behind me.


	6. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Here, have some answers. There'll be more next chapter too. Clones, man. Sooo many clones. _

Rachel's staring out the window, standing parallel to Leekie sitting at his desk. Around the room are several men in suits. Papers are spread across the desk in front of Leekie; contracts. They're facing away from him. I knew this was coming. I've known this was coming for six years, and it still catches me entirely off guard. But it's a deep breath, a mask of calm, and a hand pushing the door open, stepping into the office with the click of heels on tile.

Rachel doesn't turn to me when she speaks.

"Nice of you to join us, Delphine."

Her voice is so constructed, dripping authority and superiority off every syllable. I'm far from familiar to it, but she turns towards me then, and I see Cosima somewhere in her features.

"As you've heard from Aldous, we've come to the decision to bring Eleonore to our institute for further observations and, possibly, precautionary treatment." Rachel walks forward and takes a binder off the edge of Leekie's desk. She walks over to me, holds it out at a distance. I take it, flip it open as cautiously casual as I can manage.

"Her condition right now is stable, as are the others. But we can never be too careful."

The edge to her voice, the elegance on the tip of her words, is sickening. Or maybe it only is under these circumstances. The binder holds her profile; blood work done, exams and their inconclusive results about her predisposition to die young. A photograph of her is paper clipped to the corner of the page.

And she's stunning. Blonde hair that rolls in waves down to her shoulders, blue eyes that smile green, pale skin with a barely there red permanently engraved into her cheeks. I remember it like I saw her last month, maybe yesterday. I haven't seen her since I left that year for University.

In a lot of ways she looks the same, and it's such a comfort, like maybe I still know her. But her stare is entirely foreign to me. Her features are grown up. The years compliment her beautifully, but her glare is jarringly coarse, like she's been scarred. I look away, flip the page, for fear Rachel will use it against me if I stare too long.

But there she is again, on the second set of reports, this time with a little more life to her smile. This woman looks hauntingly familiar, though I've never met her.

Kaitlin. She's Irish. She has Elle's _everything_, her eyes, her jawline, her skin tone. Her hair is shorter though, and somehow her shoulder's seem broader. She's also less beautiful to my biased eyes. All my years working here, and this is the first time I've seen her.

"Your role at Dyad, your job, your research, won't change." Rachel moves to stand next to his desk again, with Leekie listening in. The men around the room are talking in low voices, to their phones or to each other. Lawyers, probably. Or maybe scientists. Or maybe the lawyers of scientists.

"But I understand you want to see her."

I look up at Rachel, and it's a bad judgment call. She can probably see my desperation. I try my best to mask it.

But she stares back at me with her corporate eyes, and she knows. Then she looks towards the window.

"I think we can allow that."

I nod, flipping Kaitlin's page over.

Amanda. Australian, hair dyed a shade or two lighter than Elle's. Her photograph carries a subtle anxiety.

"Those are only the profiles for this group of the project." Rachel says, referring to the binder. But she doesn't say anything more. And to be honest, I don't care. I've always assumed there were more than a few. It doesn't matter, ten, twenty, or fifty.

I've never seen any of her clones before. Not until now.

Rachel shifts her stance, and walks towards the papers on Leekie's desk. "We need you to sign a few agreements." I look up at her. She looks back at me, and I might be wrong, but I think she smiles. It's cold; maybe she doesn't know how to be warm. "Take as long as you need."

I flip the binder shut and walk towards the desk, setting it on the edge of the wood before standing in front of the papers. I pick one up. Sit down. Decide to take Rachel up on her offer; see what rights I'll lose by signing this. But we both know I'll sign regardless. I'll sign them, and see her, if it costs my life. If Rachel doesn't know, Leekie does; I've given up everything for her safety, I'm not about to stop now.

"She looks like you." Rachel says to me. "I can see how you thought the two of you were related."

I bite my tongue, _hard_. Now is _not_ the time to forget who she is, what power she has. Leekie says nothing. He just observes silently, his dominance stripped by this elitist five foot four woman.

I read the papers. I sign the papers. I leave the building, walk across the street, get in my car, all without processing. But when the ignition starts it's hard to stay masked. I sink into the driver's seat, close my eyes and see her. I see her at eleven. Then I see her at nineteen, a face of someone I know while being a stranger to me. Then I see her in an another reality, where she grew up in Ireland, lived her life outside of Dublin, the paper's said. And then it's Brisbane, Australia. The pools at my eyes just barely slip over the edge; a subtle flood that isn't even enough to scar my makeup draws its course across my cheek. I love her, of course I do. After all this time, though, she's someone else. And I can't help feeling like I'm about to be introduced to the ghost of my sister.

The drive back to the apartment is short.

When I walk in I don't know if I expect her to be there or not, but when the first thing I see is her shoes by the edge of the couch, I can't help but smile. It's fragile. And then I see her. And suddenly the last few hours are a blur.

She stands up. She walks over to me. I don't know where this is going before it gets there, but then she's on my lips. Then she's in my bed, and she's holding onto me like it's the last time we'll ever be this close. I should stop her. I should tell her what she needs to know, because I walk a tightrope everyday with her trust and this feels too desperate to be anything but falling off it.

But her hands do the talking. Her lips are suggestions; soft when she's so close to gone that it's too much concentration to kiss me back. Hard when she remembers what this is, and she fights to forget. She thinks is our last chance to pretend we've been honest with each other. She thinks I'm betraying her. Maybe I am.

She brings me to close before I get her there, and then it's a wordless goodnight, the whisper of her lips still stained across my shoulders and chest. She doesn't want to talk about it, and somehow I let her get away with that. I watch her close her eyes, she doesn't open them. It's me that reaches for the light, clicks it off, turns to her and tries to solve the problems with my eyes. I look at her. She's breathing steady now, slow and rhythmic. There is nothing I can do right now. I turn to my side, and try to fall asleep.


	7. Chapter 5

_Sorry I haven't updated this in a while; it's finals week. This is a chapter I could probably edit a little more, or forever, probably. But I'm gonna call it a day with where it's at now. Alsooo just a reminder that my French is a lie so if there are grammar/spelling issues just use your imagination and pretend it's fine (I'm working on actually learning this language instead of asking google, but it'll be a while)_

…

I wake up, alone. She's gone. She's definitely gone.

The sun's just started slipping into the loft through the window, and I sit up, trying to reach alertness but struggling to get there. I glance toward the clock; six thirty. The world's still hazy, I'm not nearly coherent yet. But I know she's gone. And I know the gravity of what that means.

There's a gentle noise, barely reverberating back to me; the sound of the shower's calm downpour tiptoes into the room. I sigh, collapsing back into the bed; she's still here. Must've just got up, because I realize now that her side of the bed's still warm. The running water travels through pipes in the thin walls as I stumble awake, put the pieces of the last few hours together. It feels like a hangover, like I'm far too sober but still not quite enough. The water shuts off after a few minutes, and I close my eyes for a second. A second becomes a minute. A minute, half an hour.

When I hear the door creak, I open my eyes.

And then she's there, in black jeans and a tank top. She leans against the door frame of the bathroom and stares at me, her eyes bleak. I sit up, but don't get out of bed. Her hair drips onto the cotton of her shirt.

"Delphine."

And she sounds exhausted, from all the months of this. Our back and forth's catching up to us. There's a chaotic silence in the space between the bed and where she stands. My hand runs through my hair aimlessly, as her's move with her words.

"What are we doing here?"

I don't know how to answer her, but I have to. Her eyes carry a cold, hollow anger, and her lips are barely shaking. She looks down at the floor.

"Cosima."

She doesn't look up for a second, and I hear it before I see it. She's crying. Her weight shifts away from the door as her spine straightens, her right hand moving to dry her eyes. She takes a choked breath. "I can't do this anymore."

It's jarring. Unexpected. I was ready for a surge of anger, or nothing at all; just an empty bed and silence. I hadn't expected this.

I don't say anything, just sit up. I take her in; her dreads, down today, and no make up on yet. Her purple tank top that fits her loosely, just hanging off her back. The tattoo on her inner wrist, her glance past me as she steadies herself. Some of the anger drips away with the tears, and she just wants the truth now. I place my hand gently on her side of the bed; an invitation.

And she walks over hesitantly. She sits down, facing perpendicular to me, as if we've drawn lines that will touch once, then never again. I don't reach out to her, but I want to. Holding back, the words come out more desperate than they should. "I've…been involved with Dyad for a very long time."

Cosima nods, barely glancing at me. "M-my family has, actually."

That sparks her interest a little more. Her eyes find me and stay there this time. "My mother was payed to have a child, for them. For Dyad."

She stares at me blankly.

"Like…"

"Like a genetic identical. Of someone."

Her laugh surprises me.

She's laughing at the insanity, and it sounds tragic. Cosima's connecting dots, jumping to conclusions, and her position changes to face me entirely. "What are you saying?" She looks completely bewildered; fearful and curious, like I'm about to walk her through a black hole. "Are you telling me your mom surrogated one of us?"

"Not one of you, no. No, Cosima. Someone else."

At first she doesn't get it.

And then it's another type of shock. Her expression completely changes, her laugh is gone. "Shit."

"A girl." I tell her. "She has at least three identicals, that I know of. Her name is Eleonore."

She stands up. "Holy shit, that's…whoa."

She wipes at her eyes again, the ghost of her tears still scarred against them. She looks like she's about to hit a threshold. I stay put. "And?"

"I know this girl. I lived with her all her life, until I left to come to the states."

"How old is she?"

"Nineteen."

"This is _insane_." Cosima's ten feet in front of me, her hands moving with her words and thoughts now.

"Are you serious?"

It isn't a question that needs an answer.

"It's just, like, how many are there? I'd never even _considered_ the possibility of more people being cloned, but I guess it makes sense, I mean the science worked." She starts pacing, and it's a reflex. Nervous and confused, and a hundred other emotions all at once. "So there could be dozens of clones, or thousands, god knows how many, of different people. I guess because they wanted to see the effects that different genetic originals would have on their cloning-"

"Cosima-"

"But then it's so risky, like, why would they do that, go ahead with another group of people without understanding the effects of the first experiment, if we even are the first human experiment-"

"_Cosima_, stop."

And she does, suddenly. She turns to me.

"There's more to it." I say.

She gives me a look, obviously asking me to explain.

"I didn't know she wasn't my sister until I turned twenty. Dyad approached me and wanted me to study eugenics, so I could remain close to her through the process of…experimentation-"

"Whoa, wait. Like a monitor?"

I smile, lightly. "I know it's dirty word to you, but being assigned to monitor someone doesn't mean you don't care about them." She puts her hand on her forehead. "It's looking out for someone, to monitor them-"

"Delphine, that's," she puts her other hand up to stop me. "That's another mess entirely, let's just, focus on this one, okay?"

I nod. She walks across the room.

"But I guess that does bring up a lot of questions." she says, looking away from me. "Clearly, you haven't been monitoring her."

"They needed to take her before I'd finished my doctorate." The words leave me cold. "Once I left school, I worked in Dyad's labs for two years. Then," I smile subtly, gesturing towards her. "And then, you."

She nods. "They asked you to get a degree in immunology?"

"I had good science scores, on tests." I tell her. "And my major was undecided, so it wasn't that I was leaving anything to do it."

"I thought…" Cosima's voice is straining to say it. "I-I thought…so you were forced into science?"

"It wasn't like that."

"We connected over something they forced you into."

"Cosima, no-"

"Just another lie you told me, I guess."

"I have…lied to you. But not about this, this is, it's-it's my passion. Cosima. I love this," I gesture at nothing, at the air, the science and particles that compose it's symphony. "As much as you do."

But she just looks on, disbelievingly. "You have a sister, a cloned sister."

I nod.

"'Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't, Cosima, and frankly, I still can't."

"Then why are you?"

Her voice is angry again. Deservedly so. "You've been lying this whole time, why stop now?"

I take a breath. _Because I trust you. _

"Because she's coming here. To Dyad, for treatment."

The fear that I carry dilutes Cosima's glare, because she knows, somehow, how significant this is for me. And for her. For everyone, really.

But she knows this terrifies me. And her anger softens.

"Why? Is she sick, does she have…"

I shake my head. "No, not yet. She's still young though."

Cosima takes a heavy breath, in and out. The urgency leaves her, slightly.

"So, okay. To summarize; you have a sister. But she's not your sister."

"She is."

I say it with more force than I intend to, and Cosima hears me. "Okay." she says. It's not condescending, not even close. Caring, even. "Eleonore."

"Yes. We call-called her Elle." I catch myself on the present tense. I haven't called her anything but 613K19 since I signed Dyad's contracts.

Cosima smiles sadly, but sweetly. "That's cute." She takes a step towards me. I'm probably displaying more weakness than I think I am, because she's standing next to me now.

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you Cosima."

"Still can't." she says to me. But it's almost teasing. Almost.

"This is why I've lied to you." She doesn't say anything. She just takes my hand.

And we stay like for a moment. Then,

"Are you excited?"

"To see her?" I ask. "That's…um. Undecided."

Cosima nods, understandingly.

"What does she look like?"

I look towards my top drawer, then I reach for, letting go of Cosima in the process. The drawer opens with a pull, and I push aside some clutter to find her picture facedown at the bottom. It's been a while since I've looked at it.

I wonder why Cosima's doing this. I don't deserve forgiveness this easily, and I'm sure she agrees. But her eyes are inviting me to tell her. They want honesty, and they don't want it through interrogation. I close the drawer, and sit up straight again, handing the picture to Cosima. "This is her. I was going to tell you it was me when I was younger, if you ever found it."

"Oh, whoa." She moves it closer to her eyes, inspecting it. "She _does_ look like you, actually."

"I know." I say. "That's when she was eleven."

Cosima looks past the photo, at me. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"Oh," I think about the timeline for a second. "Maybe about three months after that was taken, I think."

Her eyes are sad when she smiles at me. Cosima can be cruel when she wants to be; she uses cold words to set fires. But her natural disposition is sweet, and it's betraying her now, because she wants to stay mad. And she has every right to.

But her hand is on the back of my neck, and she's pulling me towards her lips.

Her kiss is soft. I want to memorize it, carry it with me like a photograph in my wallet. When she pulls away I'm afraid she'll disappear.

"You have a younger sister." she says, melodically. "I bet you make a great big sis."

And that's when I start crying.

I look up at her eyes quickly, then look away. She reads my motions easily. "Hey,"

And it comes on slowly, but then all at once. She's still standing, towering over me, and her arms wrap around me protectively. Her hands perform miracles against the thin fabric of my shirt, rubbing circles into my back, easing everything. But it's gasoline to a fire, it only makes me cry harder. I don't deserve this. I am not a good sister, not at all.

It's far too much to explain right now, so I don't attempt to. Trying to pull myself together, I wipe my eyes, take a steadying breath. "I'm sorry."

The words leave my lips reflexively, and Cosima lets go of my hand gently. She moves to sit down next to me, and I shift back to give her room; her tiny frame crawls across to her side of the bed, and she lets me fall against her, her right arm wrapping around me as her left reaches for my hand. It's comfortable. More than that, really. It's safe.

"I love you, you know."

Her voice is soft. Her fingertips incinerate my skin in the most calming ways, engraving me with her touch.

"Cosima," I say, closing my eyes. "Vous n'avez aucune idée."

The sun paints the room vibrantly as it strikes against the window, and we stay in this comfortable silence, her drawing mindless patterns into my shoulder, my head against her chest. Our hands are whispering to each other, making promises and plans we're far too afraid to say out loud.

"Is there more?" Cosima asks quietly. "More lies?"

I don't think about the consequences of it before I nod. She doesn't move away though. She just sighs, her hand gripping mine a little tighter.

"How many? No, I don't wanna know, actually, let's just-"

I shift a little to face her. "Not now."

"Are you sure?" I ask her. She doesn't know yet the things I've done to climb the ranks in Dyad. She should. She deserves to.

Cosima gives me a barely there smile, and shrugs. "Just…not today."

I nod, as her hand travels up my shoulder and into my hair. I fall back against her.

"D'accord, ma chérie."


	8. Chapter 6

_Author's note: So this is why the fic is rated M. _

_I've never done this before, never written like this before. But it was kinda fun, I might do it again sometime. Tell me what you think :)_

...

The Toronto summer is alive and burring outside. It's a gentle burn though, the kind you can feel under your feet as you walk on pavement; the kind I can feel against Cosima's skin like she's the sun, like she's the source of summer. We take our time traveling through the city, getting coffee at the kiosk by my apartment, buying lunch at the local farmer's market. We drive the city's streets, making our way to the park that runs along the city's edge. Once we slow to a stop, I'm chasing her because she feels too alive to stand still, and I feel too tied to her not to follow her every step. She runs from the car lot to the park's center, and we eat on a grassy hill overlooking a crystal blue lake. Sandwiches, fruit, and a slice of red velvet.

I'd just barely finished before she grabs my hand and drags me up, running across the lawn and into the trees. I try to complain, and it does nothing.

"I am _not_ wearing the shoes for this, Cosima-"

Still jogging, dragging me along, she looks over her shoulder at me.

"Arrêtez donc de te plaindre." she says musically. Her attempt at an accent makes me weak. I laugh at her, and she knows she's got me.

We dip through the bushes and into a small field surrounded by Red Oaks. Cosima lets go of my hand in exchange for my hips as she turns around and I find her facing me, her eyes forgetting who I am and what I've done so easily that I don't know if this morning ever happened at all. Cosima has a history of purposefully overlooking my dishonesties; after I followed her to Toronto, she let me in easily. And here we are again. I should probably be worried about this.

But her lips carve into a smile and I can't help but follow her lead. "You've taken girls here before?"

She laughs. "Oh yeah, this is the spot, for sure."

"And what do you do with them when you get here?"

Her smile turns suggestive. "Well, how curious are you?"

She takes a step closer, her perfume drawing into my atmosphere.

"'I can show you."

I close the distance. Cosima tastes like strawberries and lemonade, her tongue dipping into my mouth and her hands on my waist, moving under my shirt. Resting against the skin on my lower back.

But she doesn't want to rush. Her lips are calm and pressing, and I she knows what she's doing. It's slow and teasing that always drives me mad.

When she leans back a little, her gravity takes me with her. She laughs in response. "I want to show you something." she says against my lips.

"Okay." It's just a whisper back to her, but I don't let her get away just yet. It's one more kiss, brisk and charming, before I feel her hands grab mine as she takes a step towards a path in the trees, and I follow.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

I don't want to move, I just want to kiss her. But I give her control. She marches on, and I trek behind her, my hand still in hers as we cut through the miniature forrest. Red and green leaves color the ground like paint strokes.

"Almost there." she says. "It'll be worth it, trust me."

We get to a little rock climb, if you can call it that; it's a steep hill, patched by tiny boulders, and Cosima hops up it effortlessly. I just trail behind and try to copy her movements.

Once she's climbed to the top, she takes turns around, takes a step back, and looks down at me, laughing with her eyes.

"Here." she says, reaching her hand out for me to grab, and I do. She tugs on it, pulling me up and forcing me forward. I almost fall on top of her.

And then I'm at her lips again, my hands teasing her waist. But she pulls away, an incentive in her stare.

"Almost there." Cosima says, as she, again, races ahead before I can think to hold her back.

A couple minutes later, and we're cutting through a thick set of plant growth, the sound of running water and Cosima's footsteps dragging me forward. Through the greenery I can make out a little waterfall, a set of stones catching the stream as it falls.

And sure enough it's a small pond, dipping down from a small incline to rain against the stones gently. Waterfall; maybe not. But it's adorable. And she's adorable, practically illuminate with excitement. "Isn't it cool?"

"It's perfect." I tell her. And she smiles magically.

"My shoes are ruined, though." I tease her.

"Oh you'll get over it."

"Ugh, brat."

She raises her right hand, taking a step closer to me as it finds it's way to my curls.

"I love this place." she tells me. "And you're the only girl I've brought here, by the way."

"How long have you known about this place?"

Cosima shrugs. "A couple months. Sarah told me it was a nice spot, so I came to check it out back in…April maybe? On one of my good days."

"Oh, well then you just haven't had time yet, to bring all your women here."

Cosima laughs vibrantly, and I do to. "Right." she says. "All those women on the waiting list."

I lean forward, and she presses her lips to mine softly. Sincerely. Like a letter you've been waiting decades to read.

"But I think I'll let them keep waiting." she says, a touch away from me. "If you'll let me."

My eyes are closed. I my hands pull her closer, temple against hers, smiling. "Je ferai ce que tu veux."

...

I open the door to my apartment and hold it for Cosima, stepping through the frame and into the studio space. My shoes are off in an instant, as I move towards the bathroom. Cosima convinced me to walk in the pond with her. Walk _in_ the pond. Tiny pebbles that snuck into my boots fall against the tile floor as I enter the bathroom and tip my shoes to let them roll out. Which I realize now is stupid. Should've dumped them in the trash.

"Merde." With a sigh, I bend down to pick them up.

Her footsteps against the hardwood warn me she's coming, but Cosima still manages to surprise me a little when I feel her hands on my shoulders. I look up to see her towering over me.

"That was smooth." she says, teasingly.

"I was distracted." Her hands delicately trace the lines of my shoulders, dipping under the collar of my shirt.

"By what?"

I moan softly at her touch. Closing my eyes, I just want to stay like this. But she takes a step back.

And I look over my shoulder at her to see her walking towards the bed. She knows she's my distraction. And she knows what I want.

I stand up, and follow her path. She walks like a model, I wonder if she knows it. Without even trying to, she moves like she's dancing.

When Cosima turns around and sits on my comforter, I walk up to her and press my hands against her shoulders, pushing her back.

She laughs, as I crawl on top of her, our bodies just inches apart. She moves under me until her head's resting on my pillow, and I follow, falling into the bed and lying next to her. I kiss her softly, her hand running through my hair. My eyes closed, it's incredible. It's all incredible. I feel her lips leave mine, and I feel her breathe against me.

"God I've missed you."

She says it without thinking it through, I can tell by the way her posture changes after the words stumble out; her spine straightens, pulling her away from me slightly. I pause, but only for a second. Then I take the measures to draw her back in, my hands pulling her closer by the hem of her shirt, like I'm the anchor and she's the chain.

"I've been here." I tell her.

"Not like this."

And she sounds like I've been lost. Maybe I have been. Lost in her illness, lost in my anxiety. I'm still lost, I'm sure. Lost in her tight rope remission, in my sister's future, and her past, and my lack of attempts to save her from becoming an ID tag and experiment.

"I'm sorry." I say to her.

The words hit her features and she shakes her head. "Don't be."

Her lips find mine carelessly, fast and tempted. My hand on her waist follows her as she leans further into me, her hand running down my side.

"Not now." she says against me. Then it's all lips, her tongue tracing my bottom lip as her hands hide under my shirt.

And this time they don't stay at my lower back; I feel her fingertips trace my spine before they move to unclip of my bra.

Once she's got it her hands find their way under the straps, her warmth against my skin and lips. My hands are still on her waist; I want to be hers to take this time. I don't race up her back, don't wander from where I am. When she slides her hands around to my chest, gripping both my breasts under my bra, I can't stop myself from moaning into her mouth.

Cosima smiles against my lips, gently. Then she leans back, and my shirt gets pulled up over my head by both our hands, my bra straps falling off my shoulders with it. She pulls the cloth away from me and throws it off the bed; I laugh at the gesture, and she smiles into me. We stay like that for a moment; I just stare at her, staring back at me, still lying on our sides across from each other.

Before I fully process it, she rolls on top of me, her kiss pressing against me, _hard_. My hands can't resist climbing up her waist, finding safety against the warmth of her lower back. She's wearing a skirt with an elastic waist band, and I'm so tempted to just run my hands under it, move across her thighs.

As if she reads my mind, she sits up, so that she's straddling me. She burns me with the seductiveness of her eyes right before she grabs the bottom of her top and pulls it over her head.

And her bra is off before she comes back to me, and skirt gone through some miracle I can't quite remember as she trails her kisses across my collar bones. My jeans come off, fast.

The her hands slide under the edge of my underwear, and-

"OH god, fuck."

Cosima smirks at my profanity, but only for a second before the outline of her lips is marked by the feel of my wetness against her. Her fingers trace along the edge before dipping in, barely scraping across the surface.

I angle my hips into her, forcing her forward, and the hint of that smirk returns.

She pulls her hand out of my underwear suddenly, as she kisses a trail down my chest like she's drawing a surgery line. Her tongue sets fire where it touches, and leaves ice as its ghost.

When she gets to the waistband she just barely lingers there, and I don't have time to think before she's sliding it down, pulling the underwear off and away from me in just a couple quick movements.

It's her lips first, kissing the soft skin in front of her. And then it's her tongue, barely there before it's gone; the smallest gesture and my entire body reacts, my spine arching and a moan falling through my teeth.

But…it doesn't feel right. Something's wrong. "Cosima."

She murmurs into me, against my center, something I can't make out. "Cosima, hey."

This time she looks up, her eyes finding mine with a touch of concern. And suddenly I have my answer. I know what's wrong. "Come here."

I say it softly, and she follows my words, moving up my body and treading lightly, concern still painted across her features. Painted by me.

"Is this okay?" she asks me. _Of course it is. _

"Chéri, can you…can you stay here?"

My left hand finds a fit into hers and she lets me in, gripping me a little tighter than I expected.

"Did you not like what I was doing-"

"No, mon amour, no." I try to convey my sincerity, as much as I can. "I just want you here with me, okay? This feels better." I smile. "More intimate."

And as quickly as it came the rush of nervousness leaves her eyes. She understands.

And she thanks me for it when she leans in, touching my lips lightly with hers, as if it's a first kiss, a first love. A first touch.

The pace moves forward slowly. Like a row of dominoes, it's soft kiss after soft kiss before she runs her tongue across my bottom lip gently, and the row of them crash to the ground. Her hand finds it's way to where her tongue was, mimicking the movements as her other hand falls to my chest.

Her hands are both teasing; one grazing over my clit, the other gently sitting on my breast. Neither are moving nearly as much as they should be.

I take my hand, put it over Cosima's on my chest, and squeeze. The whisper of a laugh escapes her. "Did you think I needed some help?"

I can feel her hand moving on it's own beneath mine now. My hand moves from hers up to her neck, pulling her in and finding her lips against mine. At least, until her fingers start moving.

Her pointer and middle finger start racing in a circular motion, and I pull away just enough to catch my breath. "Fuck."

Cosima's slow and steady rhythm picks up at the curse, muddled and tired across my lips.

"Baby," her other hand is still rolling over my chest, up and down, back and forth. "You are so wet."

"Damnit, Cosima."

Her laugh is gentle and tugging at my lips to bring them back to hers. This time it's her that pulls away to breathe.

"I love it when you swear." she says to me. I'd love to be witty back to her, but the world is spinning, pressure building. I whisper a kiss across her lips before the fire starts rolling through like a freight train. My head leans into the pillow, back arched, and she moves her lips down to my neck, finding my pulse and teasing the skin there.

It won't be long now, we both know it. Her ring finger starts dancing with the others, increasing speed and elongating strokes, and-

"AHH, Oh, baise, god-"

It's a rush across her fingers, a string of profanities in the air between us. Both of us panting, she closes her eyes, and she smiles. She glows.

The rhythm slows gradually; she stops when she's ready to. Her hand crawls across my thigh to rest against it as I pull her into me, like I've missed her too.


	9. Chapter 7

_Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I feel like I say that every week :/ Time to start posting more consistently. _  
_I just have a few things to mention: 1) It's a short chapter, because shit's getting real next chapter. And 2) Leekie. So if you've seen last episode, well, then you know. I'm not gonna ignore what happened, but I won't narrate it; just move past it, and maybe focus on Rachel more (or maybe bring in Scott) starting next chapter. I also want to explore how the existence of other clones is possible, since apparently Dyad's tried and failed to create other clones. I have some ideas. _

...

Cosima's sitting at the kitchen table, tapping her fingers anxiously, caging her nervousness and releasing it through the soft thuds against the wooden surface. My feet are moving, can't stop moving. Nervous is one word for it. Terrified, another.

Relieved might be too, in some small part. I glance towards the clock above the stove, then back to Cosima. "It's past four."

"It's okay, he's a little late, no big deal."

Cosima's voice is reassuringly soft, mending as it always is.

And mine is such a contrast to it. "Do I-should I call him?"

"I don't think so, just," Cosima gets up slowly, and walks across the hardwood to me. "Give it a few minutes, kay?"

I nod as she gets to me, her hand finding my shoulder, then the back of my neck. Treading lightly, she leans onto her toes to kiss me, soft and careful, and I lean forward to meet her. Cosima presses into me lightly; once she's back on her heels, she places her hand just under my collarbone, over my heart, as if to to guide its pace.

"It'll be okay." she says so calmingly. Cosima can take these words, or any, that I've heard a thousand times before off other people's lips, and move them across her own like they're medicine. Her lantern eyes try to steady my shaky bones, and I know she's probably right. I shouldn't be _this_ nervous.

But she doesn't know a six years absence like I do, what it's like to _be_ that absence, to live and breathe it so much that you forget it's consumed her.

The phone in my hand rings suddenly. Blaring. Cosima takes a quick step back, and I pick it up before it rings twice.

"Aldous."

"Yes, Delphine, hi. She's…here." His voice carries a nervous excitement, and it strikes me that he has no idea I'm terrified. He's so curious, so excited by the prospect of her future, enamored by the idea of her creation. I should be angry; part of me definitely is, but it's not at the forefront of my priorities right now. "Did you want to come see her?"

And I'm caught completely off guard. There's an accidental pause on my end, and I stumble to recover before he reads to much into it.

"Wh-_yes_. Yes, of course."

"We have to send her for some tests," he says. "And I think maybe it would help if you saw her _before_ we did that." I can hear the spin of his chair, the soft echo of his office. "Maybe you could reassure her a bit, about what we're doing."

"Right." I say reflexively. "Yes. Sure."

'That would be much appreciated." Leekie says. "We'll see you soon." And he hangs up without further acknowledgement, a stutter on the tip of my tongue cut off by the click of his phone.

Cosima's staring at me, a step away. I slowly put the phone down, place it on the table next to me.

"He wants me to come meet her." I tell Cosima.

And a cautious smile spread across her face. "That's good, that's…what you wanted, right?"

"I wasn't expecting it_ today_ though, merde, I…"

"Hey, hey," she quickly takes the step to meet me, reaching for my hands and looking up at me. "This is _good_."

"I know."

"And you want to see her."

"I know, but I don't want to."

"But you _do_. When do they want you?"

"Now."

"Now?! Oh jesus, okay, well," she grips my hands a little tighter, before dropping them and moving towards my coat slung across the bed. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"I don't think they'll let you meet her Cosima, you're not even supposed to _know_ about her-"

"Oh, yeah" she moves her hands through the air as she walks back to me, handing me the jacket. "Course. But I could wait in the car for you, if you want."

And I'm caught off guard again. "Oh…wow-"

"Only if you want me to, just for support, you know. In case you need it."

I think I want her to be there. It's hard to say; there's too many emotions at once to decipher. But I know that this is something I should do on my own. Elle deserves that. I think.

"That's…Cosima, but you don't have to."

"I don't mind." she says, almost musically. Her hand finds mine again, like they're magnets. "But you sound a little hesitant."

"Yes, I suppose I just-I think I'll just meet you back here, afterwards. I don't want to make you wait."

"You sure?"

I nod. "I'll call you if I need you. I promise."

Cosima seems satisfied with that. She nods back to me, lifting my hand to her lips and kissing my knuckles gently. The gesture is...completely stunning. Cosima's eyes close as her lips leave my skin, and I fall in love with her all over again.

"You better get going." she says, lowering our intertwined hands.

And I know she's right. I take the step forward to close the distance and press my lips to Cosima's forehead, lingering couple seconds to breathe her in. The rise and drop of her chest tells me she's doing the same.

Then it's a step away, a reach for my phone and car keys as I rush towards the door. When I get there and turn to look at her once more, she smiles reassuringly.

"Good luck." she says. "I'll be here when you're ready."


End file.
